


Shrodinger’s something

by estel_willow



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21773032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estel_willow/pseuds/estel_willow
Summary: Michael's sitting by the fireplace in the cabin with his legs stretched out in front of him and wondering just how this has ended up being his life.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 19
Kudos: 198
Collections: 12 Days Of Malex 2019





	Shrodinger’s something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aliencurls (gracefulally)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefulally/gifts).



> This was written for aliencurls as part of the Malex secret santa. One of the prompts was:  
>  _Angsty flashback to when Alex was injured in Baghdad and Michael gets a phone call from the German hospital where Alex is recovering because Alex put Michael down as a secondary contact for when his dad was unavailable_. 
> 
> I hope you like it, bb! Merry Christmas <3 x
> 
> (Yes, this is set in a canon-divergent future where Michael was contacted when Alex got injured!)

Michael's sitting by the fireplace in the cabin with his legs stretched out in front of him and wondering just how this has ended up being his life. Things are good, things are _great_ even. Alex is in the kitchen trying to make waffles using the waffle iron that Isobel bought them for Christmas and Buffy has finally accepted that Michael has a place here, so she's draped herself over his legs in a lazy, casual display of possessive affection.

"I know," he tells her quietly as she lifts her head, eyebrows twitching at the sound of Alex moving around in the kitchen like she isn't sure if she needs to go and check on him or not, "I'll be invisible as soon as he comes back. Gotta make the most of this."

Her tail thumps against the floor in a response he's taking to be an agreement though she's always reluctant to leave the fireplace these days, the cold gets into her bones the same way it seeps into Alex's, deep and penetrating and icy. They both like curling up with Michael then, cold fingers and toes punctuate with cold pads and a colder nose to warm themselves up on whatever patch of skin they can find.

In the kitchen, Alex swears but it's followed pretty much immediately by an _I'm okay!_ It does little to put Michael at ease, but he stays because he's comfortable and Buffy's comfortable and...

Their Christmas tree is decorated with green and silver tinsel, Alex's homage to aliens (as it's always something-and-silver and the store was all out of blue tinsel). Michael whittled a few decorations, bent some out of scrap metal and Alex programmed the lights to pulse gently in a manner reminiscent of the pod that Michael came from and he finds it touching and reassuring in equal measure that Alex has done that.

"You know," he calls, lifting his voice, "we coulda just gone to the Crashdown. They make waffles."

"Yeah," Alex replies, and Michael can hear the petulance in his tone, "but I don't want to."

"No, why let someone else cook when you can set fire to our kitchen?"

"Fuck off."

Michael snorts, and he can hear Alex making a similar sound in response from the kitchen. It's hard for Michael to think about how differently things might have gone, two and a half years ago, if he hadn't gotten that phone call. Or, maybe, how differently his life might have gone if the person on the other end of the phone hadn't been so insistent on making him pick up.

***

_2016, August, 2:45am MST_

**BZZZZT BZZZZT**

Michael opened his eyes to see his cellphone lighting up the small space inside his airstream. His vision was blurred with exhaustion, alcohol and an acetone hangover the likes of which he wished he never had to experience. He was fucking lonely; it had been eleven months since he'd last seen Alex, since they'd had that last fight where he'd spat bile in Alex's direction to hurt him and Alex had done exactly what Michael had wanted at the time and walked away.

He just hadn't expected Alex to _stay_ away.

**BZZZZT BZZZZT**

It was probably Max, he thought, reaching up and flipping it face down so that he couldn't see the light anymore.

**BZZZZT BZZZZT**

Fuck Max.

*~*

_2016, August, 3:00am MST_

**BZZZZT BZZZZT**

**BZZZZT BZZZZT**

**BZZZZT BZZZZT**

**BZZZZT BZZZZT**

Without looking at the phone again, Michael turned the phone onto do not disturb until the morning. Or a more reasonable time in the morning, anyway.

Whoever it was - Max - could just go to voicemail or, if he was really desperate, just drive the fuck over to his Airstream and talk to him in person like a normal, alien adult. He couldn't feel anything across the weak connection he still had to Isobel and if something was wrong, if something was truly, _desperately_ wrong, he'd have known.

*~*

_2016, August, 7:15am MST_

**BZZZZT BZZZZT**

God fucking damnit, Isobel.

When she'd bought him the phone, Michael remembered her setting it up and deciding that 'normal' hours were from 7am until 10pm, which meant that the 'do not disturb' setting had clicked off just after seven.

**BZZZZT BZZZZT**

If it was Max, he thought murderously as he pushed himself upright and summoned his phone to himself by stretching out his right hand, he was going to climb out of bed, pull on his pants and drive to the station to punch the smug fucking bastard right in the face.

It wasn't, to Michael's surprise (and then horror), Max.

"What?" he barked down the phone, voice sleep-rough and aggressive with a headache, that hangover and the irritation reserved only for talking to annoying siblings.

"Michael Guerin?"

The voice on the other end of the line, to its credit, didn't seem to flinch in the face of Michael's ire.

"Who's asking?"

"My name's Lieutenant Lucas Barnes, I'm a- I'm calling about Alex. You're down as his secondary emergency contact should we be unable to reach the primary. As we can't reach his father, I figured we'd see if you were more willing to pick up your phone."

The pit dropped out of Michael's stomach immediately. Barnes, on the other end of the line, seemed to take Michael's silence as not only confirmation of who he was speaking to but also tacit permission to keep talking.

"Three days ago there was an incident involving some insurgents, an IED and our convoy. Captain Manes has been injured and is currently recuperating in an Air Force hospital in Germany."

Michael was pretty sure the rushing in his ears was a sound coming over the telephone line, making the guy hard to hear. Alex was hurt? He always thought he'd know if Alex was injured, their connection was fucking cosmic, after all, he'd have known if Alex had been bleeding in a desert somewhere.

"Is he- is he okay?"

The question was a dumb one and he almost rolled his eyes at himself, hand stretching out over the counter to wrap around the neck of a luke-warm beer bottle, downing what little was left inside. Warm beer wasn't the worst thing he'd ever drunk but the taste still didn't really appeal.

"Debatable."

"The fuck does that mean?"

"He's been in and out of surgery, Guerin, that's what it means. Look, are you coming out here or not?"

"Wait- what?"

"I didn't just call you to tell you so you can sit with your thumb up your arse until he makes it back to the States. He's got a mountain to climb if he wakes up a-"

"Hang on. _If_?!" It kept getting worse. Michael's mind was whirring; what if Alex died? What if Alex died and the last thing Michael said to him was the content of that argument? That he didn't want to see him anymore, that he'd ruined his life. What if Alex died thinking that Michael didn't- that Michael didn't love him with every piece of stardust that made up his physical being?

"It's a big fucking if right now."

It struck Michael that Barnes, whoever he was, wasn't being very professional and he said as much without realising. Barnes responded by snorting down the phone at him.

"My best mate's been blown up, I've still got his blood under my fingernails. Excuse me for not giving a shit about your delicate sensibilities, Roswell. You've got three hours to call me back on this number to tell me if you're coming out or not and I'll make sure someone can pick you up from the airport."

The phone hung up abruptly with a clicking sound and Michael was left staring at it, the basic home screen of the phone he'd never wanted but now was exceptionally glad that he had. He'd always had a head for numbers, and it took one glance at the one he'd been called from to file it into his memory (at least for today) before he was getting to his feet, dialling Isobel's number with the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, hopping into his jeans as he waited for her to pick up the phone. His heart was jack-hammering in his chest and it was all he could do to stop his powers from exploding out of him. The windows of his airstream were already rattling.

*~*

“Alex,” Isobel said, perfect eyebrow arching. She’d come to the Airstream with Max in tow after she’d answered his panicked early-morning phone call. As much as things between his siblings and him were strained, it surprised him that when he’d called, they’d dropped everything to come to help him. She’d found his passport - even though he’d told her he didn’t want to ever travel, she’d ignored him and made one for him anyway when she was renewing hers and had kept it for safekeeping - and had turned up with a duffel bag that he was allowed to borrow. “Alex Manes?”

“Isobel,” Max started, but she wasn’t listening.

“As in... hot-topic’s best customer, guyliner and nail polish musician wannabe, Alex Manes?”

Michael ground his teeth. 

“Isobel,” Max repeated, more firmly this time.

“What? I just- I don’t understand why Michael’s trying to get to Germany of all places to go and see Alex Manes, when I didn’t even know that they were-”

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Michael said darkly and Max’s eyes cut to him in warning. Michael pushed his fingers through his curls and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Alex and I... we have- _had_ \- something special. Different. I just-”

“Wait, you and Alex?”

Michael took a deep breath. This wasn’t what was important but since they were deciding to focus on that, instead of what _was_ important, he just nodded.

“I didn’t know you were gay,” Max chimed in. “I knew that Alex was... different but-”

“Maybe he’s not gay,” Isobel cut in before Max could speak, “bisexuals are people too. He could like both.”

“He,” Michael bit out, “is standing right fucking here. Don’t talk about me like I’m not. What does it matter where I am on some stupid, arbitrary binary scale of sexual orientation? Alex nearly died. He could still die and he- he wanted me there.”

“What?”

So, Michael thought, Isobel hadn’t filled Max in on all the particulars of what had happened when he called her. He took a breath, latched his hand around the back of his neck and started talking.

Max, to his credit, just folded his arms across his chest and leaned his weight back against the nearest counter and Isobel - alternatively stuffing clean(ish) clothes into the duffel and looking in disgust at the piles of various items that he had stuffed in places to wash later - chimed in when she felt like he was missing something out, or to relay - more accurately - his distressed emotional state just to embarrass him further.

When he was finished talking, Max’s fingers were gripping his upper arms and Isobel thrust the duffel in his direction. They both looked pale and worried.

“I’ve got you a flight to Germany,” she said, fingers touching his cheek gently. “Max and I’ll drop you off at the airport, your flight leaves at two.”

Max opened his mouth to say something when Isobel cut him off again, “and make sure you call us when you get there. I’ll cover your cell phone charges. Noah’s been made partner so it’s not- No, Michael, don’t argue with me. Just call us when you get there so we know you’re okay, and when you need a flight back.”

He was locking up the trailer as Isobel and Max both rested their hands against his back. He felt a jolt go through him, the warmth of the connection reigniting faintly. It rippled through his mind, a balm against the constant pain and sting of loneliness, a state he had accepted - welcomed, even - because it was better than letting other people in again and being hurt, having them ripped away, watching them walk away and not come back...

Michael always loved the people that left him.

Max. Isobel... Alex.

He mumbled a thank you to them both. He hated the idea of being a charity case, he hated it so much but... but it was _Alex_. 

Even now, Michael realised, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for that man.

*~*

The last time Michael had flown, he’d been hurtling towards Planet Earth at at least Mach 30. He’d been in a pod, so he didn’t remember the crash, or the next seventy years, but that was the only other time his feet had left the ground. Thankfully, this flight was significantly more successful than the last and after a layover in New York, he ended up in an airport in Germany, looking for someone with his name on a piece of paper to take him to Landstuhl.

His palms were sweaty, he hadn’t had a chance to shower or change since he’d left Roswell seventeen hours ago and he’d had nine coffees on the plane and not a single drop of acetone which meant that his hands were shaking slightly. 

Withdrawal was a bitch.

It might have taken an hour to get to Landstuhl. It might have taken three hours. Michael wasn’t sure because time had stretched out like he was at the edge of a black hole, stuck in the limbo of the event horizon. He both wanted to be there and he didn’t. He was both someone special to Alex and someone Alex left behind.  
Schrodinger’s boyfriend. If ‘boyfriend’ was even the correct term. It was more impressive than Shrodinger’s on-and-off-again-sort-of-lover. More impressive than  
Shrodinger’s _something_.

*~*

Landstuhl was less impressive than he thought it’d be. He signed in, they took his passport and copied it then gave him a lanyard with the word VISITOR in red, block letters along with a photograph of his sleep-deprived face and wild curls printed on it. He was pointed in the direction of the hospital, the part of the building that, somewhere, housed Alex, and then left to it.

He wandered around for a while, swampy coffee cooling in his trembling hand, until he heard someone calling his name.

“-erin?”

He turned his head to see a tall man with brown hair and deep, deep brown eyes. He had sharp features and looked like a sharpshooter, maybe, he was lithe but strong and his black fatigues fitted him well. He bit the inside of his cheek and just nodded once, sharply, and the guy approached.

Michael realised then that he was limping. As he got closer, the guy looked exhausted, there were bruises along the side of his face and a portion of his hair was shaved, an angry looking cut with silver staples holding it together standing out sharply. Michael thought that’d scar. His hand ached in sympathy.

“Michael Guerin?” 

He was British. His accent was clipped and posh-sounding, but then Michael had grown up in New Mexico, rarely left the state other than to head into Texas for a job, everything sounded posh compared to the drawls he was used to. 

“Oh thank fuck. Didn’t know if you’d show.”

The man closed the distance between them and held out his left hand. It was bandaged, with streaks of blood from where sutures had burst and his hands, though clean, had flecks of dark, dried blood under his nails. 

“Barnes?”

“Guilty,” he admitted with a weak smile. Michael knew from that moment that if there had been other circumstances behind their meeting, that smile would have been bright. Handsome. Not exhausted and worried and weak. “Really fucking glad you made it, mate.”

“You really didn’t think I’d come?” 

Michael’s voice sounded wounded even to his own ears. Barnes’ expression faltered for a moment and then he shrugged.

“I know you guys didn’t exactly leave things on a good note.”

“You do?” 

“Mmhm. None of my business, and I don’t know if the Cap just... forgot to take you off his list of emergency contacts but I know a hundred ways to kill you and make it look like an accident. So if you hurt him when he wakes up, or if you fuck this up in _any way_...”

Michael gritted his teeth. “You’re right,” he replied tersely, “it’s none of your business. Pretty sure Alex wouldn’t talk to you about his private life so-”

“Look, you serve with a guy, you rely on him to pull you out of the fire or put a bullet in his brain if he gets captured by the wrong people, you share things. I know enough.”

Michael just scowled, trying to stamp down on the defensiveness that rippled through him. Alex never wanted to talk about anything. Alex was a lock-box, and iron-clad fortress of secrets. He kept everyone at arm’s length. Even Michael. 

Especially Michael.

Michael’s hand throbbed again.

He needed a fucking drink.

*~*

He followed Barnes silently, glaring at the back of his head as they walked. Though he was relieved that - somehow - this guy had been instrumental in bringing Alex back and getting him to safety (which might not have been said, but Michael just _knew_ ), he still didn’t like him. Michael thought he was a smug bastard, something about him just set his teeth on edge. Besides, the guy didn’t like him. And Michael, without assuming that Alex had spilled everything, didn’t know what he’d done to make Barnes hate him so much.

So Michael didn’t like him either.

They walked in silence until Barnes stopped abruptly. Michael nearly walked into him.

“What the-”

He came to stand beside Barnes and looked through the glass doors of the room they were outside. Barnes was pale and is expression crumpled. He looked broken, any of the cocky, smugness that Michael disliked so much had disappeared. Michael wanted to reach out, a bizarre sort of ‘what would Max do’ moment had his hand lifting before he caught himself and stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans. 

“He’s in there.”

Michael nodded, finally letting himself focus on the interior of the room opposite. It was clinical, obviously, and white. The only colour was the light tan of Alex’s sun-kissed skin, paler than it should have been against the crisp sheets and, as Michael’s eyes moved over the bed, the dark, dusty red of blood that had dried on a few of the bandages that seemed to almost cover every other part of Alex’s body.

He wasn’t aware he was holding his breath until his head spun a little and Barnes reached out, catching him when the world tilted dizzyingly. He straightened up, shrugging off the hand that touched his shoulder and cleared his throat. He didn’t want to go into the room, but he knew he had to. 

“Can I go in?”

“The fuck do you think?” Barnes asked, his tone not quite harsh. It was missing a bite. Seeing Alex took the wind out of everyone’s sails. “I- shit, yeah, go on, Guerin. He’s still sleeping. Docs say he won’t wake up for a while.”

“A while?”

Barnes shrugged. He didn’t say ‘if’. 

He didn’t have to.

*~*

“Fuck, Alex, I don’t- I don’t even know what to say. It- I never wanted you to- I- Shit, Barnes is a douche, the hell did you tell him about me? He hates me. He’s been glaring at me through the glass for the past- I hope I’m not hurting you. I just need to- your hands are cold.”

...

“I know you can’t hear me. I wish you could. There’s so much I want to say to you, man, you- I didn’t want you to leave. I never wanted you to leave. Not seeing you after the- It wasn’t you I was avoiding. I wasn’t- Fuck.”

...

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of that stuff I said. I was being an asshole because you were leaving me again but I- I get it? Not why you were leaving _me_ but that you didn’t- you didn’t really have much of a choice. It was- Alex, I know I pushed you away, ended up making you leave a week before you were meant to. I just hated feeling like a secret. I never- I was never ashamed of you, or of being with you. No matter what your dad did to me. And I didn’t- what happened to me wasn’t your fault. And I’d have done it all over again, I'd step in every time knowing what’d happen to me just so that he didn’t get to hurt you. I’d have done anything to make sure he didn’t put his hands on you. I’m used to it. You-”

...

“Alex, it’s been three days. I just- I’ve been here the whole time. I don’t- I wish you could tell me why you put me down as an emergency contact. Were you only planning on having someone call me if you died? I tried to get in touch with you, but you blanked me. I thought- I don’t know what I- I was sure you hated me. You should. I don’t- I didn’t mean any of what I said. I just- It’s not okay but I wanted to hurt you the way you-

Huh. That’s a fucked up way of looking at things.

Please, Alex, wake up. I need you to wake up and tell me you’re gonna be okay. 

If you wake up I promise I’ll never hurt you again. If you wake up I’ll- I’ll love you the way you should be loved.”

...

“Barnes sat with me for a while today. I didn’t know you wore glasses. Barnes has a photo of you but it looks like it was taken in the middle of the night. You look cute with them on. Nah, cute’s the wrong word. You looked really fucking hot. I haven’t slept enough, I said that right in front of Barnes. I didn’t mean to out you but he already knew. He knew about the fight. He knew about the toolshed. I- He knew about a lot of stuff that he thought I knew and I didn’t.

Why didn’t you tell me about your dad, Alex? We coulda just... run away together.

I’d have run away for you. With you.

I still would.”

...

“Sorry I’m late. The nurses made me leave and go get showered. Isobel says hi. So does Maria. Maria wanted to come out but she can’t leave the Pony. Isobel got me a hotel just down the road, so I have somewhere to go ands sleep that isn’t this chair or their family waiting room. I- I never figured I’d leave the US, let alone come all the way out to Europe to sit beside your unc-

Jesus, Alex, wake the fuck up already!”

...

“Okay, okay- I- I’m sorry for yelling at you. That- that wasn’t fair. It’s just the doctors say the longer you’re asleep the less likely it is that you’ll wake up. I need you wake up. 

Please.

I can’t go home without you. I- I can’t.”

...

“They said you should be waking up. It’s been eleven days since you arrived and the doctor said if you’re gonna wake up, now’s the time. Or the time should- it should be any minute now. Any day now. You’re gonna have some fancy as fuck scars, they had to shave your head. It’s alright, you kinda suit the close-cropped look. They had to piece your skull back together an-

They couldn’t save your leg, Alex. I know you can’t hear me but I wanted to tell you. Didn’t want you to- Didn’t want you to wake up and not know.

C’mon, Alex. You survived being blown up and your SUV flipping and literally crushing you. You’re stronger than this. They’ve stopped giving you the stuff that’s making you sleep.

It’s all up to you.

Come back to me.

Don’t leave me here alone again.”

...

“He’ll wake up, Michael.”

“How can you still be so fucking positive, Luke? He’s not waking up, is he. He’s not gonna fucking wake up and I- I just- I can’t-“

“Hey, hey, take a deep breath. I can’t- I can’t think of anything other than the fact that he’s gonna wake up because if he doesn’t, I’ll make a deal with fucking Anubis and bring him back just so I can wring his fucking neck. He’s tough. You know that. He’s tougher than either of us know. This won’t take him out. This isn’t enough.”

“I-”

“Believe in him, Michael.”

“I do.”

“So let that be enough.”

“I can’t- he can’t die.”

“He won’t.”

“I have to tell him that I-”

“Yeah.”

*~*

Fifteen days after Michael had arrived, eighteen days after Alex had been airlifted to the Landstuhl base, Alex’s fingers twitched. Michael, who had been dozing in the uncomfortable chair, bolted awake.

He leaned forward, lightly curled his fingers around Alex’s and pressed a kiss gently to his knuckles. Alex’s fingers twitched again in response to the touch. 

“Hey,” Michael murmured, his voice rough and low from having spoken so much. He’d been filling the silence between the beeps of the machine with random chatter,  
gossip he’d overheard and deep, deep secrets that he’d never told another soul. Alex couldn’t hear him anyway, right? So what did it matter if he told Alex everything about himself, about the crash and his powers, about not being human but having lived his life in hiding. About how he felt. 

Alex’s eyelids fluttered and his brow twitched. 

“Ssh. It’s okay, Alex- just- I’m here. It’s alright. Barnes in here too, he just stepped out for a coffee and to take a piss. You’re safe, and you’re alive and it- it’s gonna be okay.”

Alex, whose eyes didn’t open properly, made a soft sound and tried to squeeze Michael’s hand. Michael, heart in his throat, just made a soft sound in response and kissed Alex’s fingers again.

***

Buffy whines, pawing at his knee as she huffs her way up his thigh. He blinks and slowly the world filters back in around him. The fire’s crackling and Alex hasn’t burned anything down yet, but from the sounds in the kitchen it seems like he’s given up in his pursuit of waffles and is talking on the phone to someone.

“...yeah, we’ll be there. It’d be good to- Boxing Day? Sure. I was gonna say you could just come to us for Christmas Day, Michael wouldn’t mind… Hah, no, I’m sure. He’s got a soft spot for you, asshole, and you know it. He even bought you a prese- No. I’m not gonna tell you what it is.”

Michael gets to his feet and lets Buffy out the back, shutting the door a moment later to keep out the chill. He might have been a living furnace but Alex felt the cold keenly. Coming up behind Alex and wrapping his arms around his waist, he smiles as Alex’s left hand drops to cover his own. Their rings bump against each other quietly and glow in an iridescent response to each other. 

He drops a kiss underneath Alex’s ear and hears the sound of Barnes protesting on the other end of the phone about keeping presents a secret. 

“If you don’t mind, B,” he says, raising his voice a little to be heard down the microphone without stealing it from Alex’s hand, “I’d like my husband back for a while. I’ve not eaten yet and since he’s quit cooking to call you, we’re gonna need to go out. But you’ll see us on Christmas Day, I’ll only try and poison you once.”

There’s a laugh down the phone and goodbyes are exchanged quickly. Once the phone’s been replaced on the counter and Alex’s attention is fully back on Michael, Michael spins him carefully and crowds him back against the counter, nudging their noses together until Alex tips his head back, allowing Michael to sweep in for a kiss.

Buffy barks at the back door but Alex’s fingers slide up his sides, sneaking underneath the hem of his shirt, sending cool zings of sensation across his skin and it makes his breath catch in his throat. It _still_ makes his breath catch in his throat. 

He leans back when the kiss breaks, feeling Alex’s warm, minty breath ghosting over his lips and he just smiles, dopey and content and so in love he doesn’t know what to do with himself so he just smiles and he stares and he wonders how this is his life.

Evidently, Alex catches him staring because he tilts his head slightly, one brow quirked quizzically as he asks with a soft laugh, “What?” 

“Nothing,” Michael says, thinking about how of all the planets they could have crashed on it was this one, of all the times he could have woken from the pod it was at the right time and out of all the people that could have loved him it was _this one_ , this person. His person. “I just- I love you.”

Alex bumps their noses together again, pushing his fingers through Michael’s curls and looking him in the eye as he says, with a sincerity that makes Michael’s chest tighten, “I love you too.”


End file.
